


The Remains of a Witch

by Maedelmae



Series: Cassandra and Her Troubles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst and Feels, Car Accidents, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Headaches & Migraines, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Morally Grey Severus Snape, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophetic Visions, Seer Original Female Character, Taking the MGME trend and applying it to HP, Tenderness, Time Travel, Triwizard Tournament, Visions in dreams, Work In Progress, feeding people as a love language, morally grey original female character, no beta we die like men, people taking care of Harry for the first time in his life, pseudo big sister, questions of mortality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maedelmae/pseuds/Maedelmae
Summary: With her current life kicking her ass, Cassandra decides to go on a road trip with no planning. When she gets into a fatal car accident, she finds herself not in the afterlife, but the universe of Harry Potter. Being a super fan, she obviously knows all the lore and the history. The question then becomes--what should she do with the power that's been given to her?TL;DR:The concept of Modern Girl in Middle Earth but this time it's Harry Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Original Female Character(s), Minerva McGonagall & Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Cassandra and Her Troubles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102883
Comments: 24
Kudos: 65





	1. So We Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, before you go into reading this, I should warn you that I haven't finished writing it. With my track record, I wouldn't be surprised if this gets left behind. However, I must note that I have an ending in mind and have planned out this fic and I severely doubt I will leave it unfinished. Updates might be sporadic though. 
> 
> If you clicked on this, I am so happy! I am going through a rough time right now in my life dealing with heavy isolation, and I'm impulse posting this, despite having told myself I'd wait until more was written. Right now though, I have 13 long chapters posted so you all WILL be getting content. 
> 
> If you are reading this I love you and think you are great :8)
> 
> Also I have plans to write Cassandra in other universes, so feel free to check them out when I post them. They will be completely unattached to the other bodies of work in the series so can be read independently of each other.

**.oOo.**

The year was 1994 and on the evening of July 28th, a torrential downpour was afflicting the streets of London town. 

Lucky for Tom, the Leaky Cauldron owner and runner, the inside of the pub was warm and empty. There was no traffic outside, and all of the boarders had fled to their rooms when the clock struck an hour before midnight. Not that there were many tenants, around this time of year. There usually weren’t very many boarders at  _ any _ time of the year. However, the pub wasn’t hurting for lack of clientele—no this pub had the benefit of being the main entrance to the famed wizard shopping district known as “Diagon Alley”. 

So, Tom was content to sit down in the corner with a bowl of stew and a pint of ale to wash it down with. 

The fire in front of him crackled as he sipped at the broth near the bottom of the bowl and once more complimented the skills of his house elf, Mimzy. He had just finished the bowl completely when the clock struck midnight. The clock in the corner chimed twelve times, and on the twelfth chime a bright light and a crash sounded from outside of the establishment. 

Tom jumped up, roused from his contented and sleepy state and now more than a little suspicious of the goings on outside his building. He swung the heavy door open, bracing against the loud rain and howling wind, blowing droplets on his face and wetting his sweater. 

However, it was not the weather that had his attention anymore—no, instead it was the presence of a girl. 

Slumped down and soaked with rain, he brought the unconscious girl—who couldn't be no more than nineteen—into the pub along with the rain drenched bag she carried with her. Her hair was plastered to her pale and scarred face and her lips were turning blue with cold. Quickly Tom went into action, setting the girl down in front of the fire to dry out and get warm. He left her bag near the fire too, but didn’t dare open it. Not only was it not his business the contents, but it could very well have protective charms on it. 

He grabbed a glass of water and a small bit of bread and stew for when the girl awoke and went back to his table to finish his interrupted meal. 

.oOo.

It was around one in the morning when the girl woke. 

Frightened as all hell, the girl had jumped up and started shouting in a foreign language, throwing punches and kicking anything near her. Tom quickly cast a silencing ward around the area so the upstairs boarders wouldn’t be disturbed by his most recent guest. Not knowing what else to do, he sat quietly, waiting for the girl to calm down before he approached, wary of her powerful throws. 

It wasn’t long before the girl collapsed back into the chair he had placed her in. She looked like a drowned kitten, slumped in exhaustion. She looked around and quickly caught his eyes with her own. 

“Where am I?” Her voice was quiet and shaky and she had an American accent. 

“The Leaky Cauldron. Am I right to assume you are a witch?” With the question, her eyes grew wide and she paled further. 

She turned back to the fire and muttered frantically in a different language that Tom had never heard before. She turned back to the barman. 

“What year is it?... Actually, what is the entire date?”

“It is now the 28th of July in the year 1994. A Friday.” 

“1994…” She trailed off, once more turning back to the fire and muttering in that language of hers. 

“Would you like to stay in a room for the night? I won’t charge you. It’s clear that you've had a great shock and I would feel better if you spent the night here.” 

She gave him a side eye and gave a weary sigh. “I suppose that will be alright, thank you.”

She grabbed her still dripping bag and followed him up the stairs, her water and stew sitting forgotten on a nearby table. 

.oOo.

She had thought that the after life would be different. Perhaps a little softer, and a little warmer. Maybe a little brighter, too. However, she wasn’t expecting to be in wizarding britain in 1994. Maybe she was in a coma? 

No, she couldn’t be. She remembered very specifically bleeding out in a ditch. Even if an ambulance had arrived, there was no guarantee they would have been able to save her. 

She sighed, alone in the room that reminded her of something straight out of 1694 rather than 1994. She stripped out of her still soaked dress and examined the new scars that had taken up residence on her body between the accident and her waking up in the pub. She was too tired, too wired to think about things in depth. She had freaked out earlier when she woke up, and her face coloured in embarrassment at the display the barman must have seen. 

She grabbed her soaked bag—still dripping—and emptied out the contents. A damp, ripping $5 bill, a soaked pouch with $75 worth of jewelry. Three water damaged books. An envelope of vintage photos that she freaked out about, carefully removing each individual photo and setting it out to dry on the desk. Her ruined sketchbook, now containing only smudges, along with her tin of pencils and charcoal. Her tarot cards had been nestled in her pocket before she died and had miraculously remained unharmed there.

A small tin box that had kept out most of the water (she removed its contents too: a tiny opal, a few wheat pennies, a couple of keys, and a small glass rabbit and turtle). A gold pocket watch that had stopped working—she couldn’t blame the rain on that. And finally a dripping lump of what was her grandmother’s quilt. 

She did what she could to save her only possessions, hanging the blanket and laying the books and papers out. Gently patting down the photos, cards and jewelry with a soft towel in the bathroom. 

A glance in the mirror revealed she had several scars, but everything beyond that stayed the same. 

Rain still pattered on the window outside, and the world was black with darkness. Not even lightning dared to light up the night sky. She sighed, wondering what she was going to do. 

Maybe it was a sign. 1994 was the year Harry Potter had been entered into the goblet of fire and subsequently, accidentally brought Voldemort back to life. With any luck, she could probably save many lives and prevent Harry from going through such heartbreak with Sirius dying and all. Though the thought of being in the same room as Albus Dumbledore gave her the shivers. 

She felt helpless, and couldn’t help but imagine poor little Harry misguided and manipulated into a role that he hadn’t ever wanted. He needs love and support, not ridicule, gossip, and manipulation. She knew how hard this year would be on him. She wanted to fix that, to change the proceedings of the year to the best of her ability.

She huffed, holding back tears and crawled into bed and under the covers, resigning herself to fix a world she had never been a part of. She now knew what Harry had felt like when he walked to his death for a society he barely knew. 

She did not dream that night. 

.oOo.

  
  



	2. False Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life was a lot. Juggling responsibilities was very hard. She barely had enough time to get from one meeting to the next, how was she supposed to make time for herself? So she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally made this chapter super short, but the next chapter is way longer, so hold on for just a little longer please! I hope everyone who has clicked on this story has enjoyed it so far. I had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> This is just a short backstory chapter explaining how main character got to the Harry Potter universe (remember the graphic depictions tag?) It's not very violent, but there is a car-crash, so here is your warning. 
> 
> I love you guys and I'm so glad you clicked on this story! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

.oOo.

Sometimes her yearning for another life, another world, made her cry. 

Emotions would swirl around her and take her by surprise, leaving her to sit alone without moving for days on end. 

But now she didn’t have days on end to sit around and wallow for something that logistically would never happen. No, her life was too busy for that. It felt at times that she would never have a moment to herself. Classes all day, a small tea break, meetings all evening, a forty five minute commute, a small dinner, more work to prepare for the next day, and then it was fifteen minutes of reading before bed. Rinse and repeat. 

Her days had grown monotonous and boring as all hell, even for someone as busy as her. 

So, in the wake of these bouts of emotions that she could only really flesh out properly from the privacy of her own room, she cut it into other events. Crying in the car, staring into space over a tea-cup, going to other worlds in books. It didn’t feel fair that everything she enjoyed in life had been tempered and whittled into a mockery of what it once was. 

She had dreams and aspirations. 

She wanted to be an artist, restoring paintings and bringing beauty back to life. She wanted to live in a cottage and walk to foreign places just to see the magnitude of nature. She wanted to camp out under the stars and be reminded that she really didn’t matter. She wanted to be pushed by the unforgiving waves of the ocean and lost in the tides of life. 

Her mother told her she felt too much. 

And she supposes this is true. And maybe it was during one of these bouts of ‘feeling too much’ when she decided to ditch all of her responsibilities and leave. 

Equipped with her brother’s pack from his boy-scout days, she set out with eighty dollars in cash and jewelry, and an old ford ranger truck from the mid-80’s. 

She brought other stuff, of course, just sentimental items that she couldn’t bear to part with. The only thing she brought for entertainment was a deck of old Tarot cards. She left her phone behind.

She intended to never return. 

.oOo.

She supposes this wish to never return is what jinxed the trip. 

The rain had poured down heavily four days into her trip and the roads had grown slick. It didn’t help that she was now on a four lane highway in the dark. The truck, while fun to drive, was not necessarily the safest. The gas gauge didn’t work, the only working mirror she had was the rear view mirror, the seat belt hung limply across her chest—applying no real pressure, it couldn’t go faster than 75 miles—80 if you were pushing it, the coolant was leaking, and, oh yeah, the brakes were terrible. 

A red light up ahead came faster at her than she would’ve liked, illuminating the rain-covered windshield. She registered the brake lights and hit hers in response, a little too fast. 

She lost control of the car, the back wheels couldn’t find traction and she was swerving off of the highway, drifting across all four lanes in the process. She gripped the wheel so tight that the broken piece of the cover had bitten into the meat of her palm. Then the car eventually rolled to a stop. 

She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes, blind with panic. Her heart was beating a tattoo against her ribcage. However, she had failed to notice the position she had landed in. The car had stopped sideways in the middle of two lanes. And the engine had stalled and wouldn’t start. She stomped on the pedals, to no avail and screamed as she thrashed wildly in her seat, beating the steering wheel. 

The dark rain had cut down the visibility of every single driver on the road that night. A fact that was only discovered a minute later. By the time she had been able to see the blaring headlights coming right towards her at high speed, it was far too late. 

The truck was smashed into by a semi-truck driving cross country. Its body and passenger were sent flying into a ditch just off the road. 

She died slowly. It was the worst pain she had ever felt, clutching her precious pack and hoping someone would save her as she bled out. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how'd I do?


	3. Dawn of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has undertaken a new mission: save the world. But she just got there, so she needed a starting point. Diagon Alley seems as good a place as any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!
> 
> I just started classes again, and I didn't realize how much work there would be when I signed up, so if I forget to update, it's probably because I bit off more than I can chew. However, I will try my best. 
> 
> Thank you for everybody who has kudos, commented, bookmarked, and subscribed. It means a lot to me. 
> 
> I have drawn a picture of how I picture the main protagonist, which will hopefully be located at the end of the chapter. It was my first portrait that I've done digitally, so let me know how I did. 
> 
> I love you all, and hope you enjoy reading!!!

In the morning, the sun flooded into the room and across her face, waking her up instantly. 

The coming of the new day brought up several concerns. 

  1. She was now a witch.
  2. She was also now in _England_ , so speaking like the locals might be beneficial. 
  3. She was in the Harry Potter universe right before the second wizarding war. 
  4. She was probably dead. 
  5. She needed to find a way to fix things? 



She hadn’t quite decided what to do, there wasn’t really anything she  _ could _ do. She didn’t want to go back to her old life—even though she was starting to  _ really _ regret her trip. Even if she did want to go back, there might not even be a way to reverse whatever universal cheat code she entered to land here. 

If she was going to try and fix things, then she needed to be close to Harry before the tournament started so he would trust her to save him from the fate that was his entrance, and then the humiliation, then the betrayal, then the deaths, and then the rebirths. She would have to stop it all, and for that she needed to be in Hogwarts. She didn’t know any magic from this world, so it wasn’t like she would be able to be the defense teacher. There weren’t any openings that she knew of anyway. 

She needed to write a letter to McGonagall and see if she could secure a place for herself at the school, even if it was just a janitorial position. She loathed doing it, but there was the slight possibility she would have to mail a letter to Dumbledore. Though hopefully, she could bypass that and go to McGonagall who had her faults, but was a good person overall. It is true that she had been ignorant of Harry’s abuse at the hands of his relatives, and had ignored the problems of the students, not quite believing them. But she had also managed to do a fine job of defending Hogwarts in the end. She had the added bonus of also being the deputy headmistress. 

But between then and now, she would need a place to stay. Surely no one would accept her warped and ripped America 5 dollar bill, or her cheap jewelry that she hadn’t really been intending to sell in the first place. 

“Okay” she took a deep breath, “take this one day at a time, looking at the bigger picture will only stress you out.” 

She examined her belongings, finding the pages of the books still a little damp, her pictures and cards curled, her drawings runny and smudged, and her quilt heavy with moisture. It would have to do. She packed it all into the bag, unwilling to leave anything behind, before heading downstairs. 

“Ah, you’re up.” Tom announced. He looked more friendly in person than he did in the films, which was a major relief. 

“Yes, thank you for letting me stay last night.”

“No problem, anything to help.” He smiled, pushing forward a plate of beans, toast and eggs. “For free.”

Ah yes, free food! She only wished the eggs hadn’t been fried, but she wasn’t picky about something as good as  _ free food _ . She thanked him profusely before carrying her plate to a small nearby table and wolfing it down, using her hands more than the offered silverware. When she finished the plate, she wished she had a glass of water, but before she could go to the bar, a glass of butterbeer appeared out of thin air. 

Maybe it was a house elf that popped it to her table? She wished it had been water, but again, she wasn’t picky about free things. So, she quickly gulped down the drink, making her stomach hurt with the caramel-butterscotch flavor so early in the morning. 

It came time for her to leave and go begging to the goblins. 

.oOo.

The bank was as white as snow, and the reflecting sun burned her sensitive eyes. Nonetheless, she moved closer to the building. The streets around her weren’t busy, and she had only just realized she still wasn’t wearing any shoes. 

When she got to the doors, guarded by goblins, she stared for quite a lot longer than she would have liked. 

It wasn’t the goblins that caused her staring, but rather the truly exquisite architecture. The Corinthian columns were so detailed, it hurt her eyes to look at. And the marble was indeed white, but thin milky veins of gold ran through it that could only be seen through close inspection. 

“You have a beautiful building. I’ve never seen a more beautiful bank,” she said to the nearest goblin who stared silently at her. 

She finally stepped in through the doors and the tile was beautiful too. It was black obsidian and it too had thin veins of gold running through it. The walls were the same marble as outside, but occasionally had red velvet wall hangings, looking rather like blood. The ceiling though, it took her breath away. Above her was a stained glass mosaic depicting a battle between wizards and goblins. It was truly a thing of beauty. Her eyes hurt with the strain it took to examine all of the little details—like the blood on one of the warrior goblin’s axes. 

A clearing of someone's throat threw her from her examination. 

“Can I help you miss?” She jumped up. It was a goblin—a teller if their suit indicated correctly. 

“Yes. Yes, sorry, this building is so beautiful I could spend hours lost in its details.” She hummed. “I need… I need some help of the goblin persuasion.”

“You and every other wizard. What of it?”

“Well, you see… actually, can I talk to you in private? I don’t really trust any of the wizards around, and I have some very sensitive information.” The goblin glared at her with their beady eyes for a long while. 

“And why should I?” 

“I can help the bank from being destroyed in three years!” She had gotten frantic and anxious and before her mind could catch up to her mouth, she spewed the last thing she had wanted to say. Now the goblins would think of her as a threat. 

“Destroyed? Unlikely. This building is fortified with the strongest of runes and goblin magic. I’ll ask it again, why should I let you speak to me in private?”

“Because I have nothing and I need you just as much as you need me—despite your claims that the bank will never fall, it will. I have seen it.” That quieted the snarling goblin down.

“ _ Seen _ it?”

“ _ Seen _ it.” She shrugged internally, if passing herself off as a seer was going to get her an audience with the goblins, then so be it. She now holds a monopoly on the future. As resident seer she now has infinite power to change the fates of everyone around her. 

“Very well then, I suppose I should allow you an audience. However, if it comes to light that your information is worthless, we will leave you destitute.”

“Already taken care of.”

And she happily followed the goblin into the bowels of the building. 

.oOo.

The next few hours were filled with her explaining in depth just what had happened to her and what should come to pass. She even mentioned the Horcrux that would make an appearance in the Lestrange vault by the time Harry would be hunting for them. 

The goblin stared in silence while she spoke. She had gambled on the fact that Goblins would hate soul magic—and she was right.

“What did you say your name was?” 

Oh shit. She had completely forgotten about a name. 

Her old name no longer felt like it belonged to her. It hadn’t suited her in her old life, and it sure as hell did not suit her in her current life. 

So what should she go by now? But then the question became ‘who am I?’ and that was a challenge. She didn’t know anymore where she fit into this new place. She was much like the greek oracle Cassandra, cursed with seeing all but having no one believe her. No one would ever believe that she had died nearly 20 years into the future and another universe away. Actually, that might work.

“Cassandra… at your service. May your enemies be bathed in blood.” She recited the greeting from memory, hoping that the words first discovered in some fanfiction or other had not led her astray. It wasn’t until the goblin returned her bow and said the other half of the recitation that she relaxed. 

“Do you have a last name, Miss Cassandra?”

“No, nor do I want one.” She wasn’t tied to anybody here, and familial connections would just get in the way of her goals. Prejudice was already bad enough in the real world without magic purity to worry about. 

“That will certainly complicate things. A lot of wizarding tradition hangs on the usage of one’s last or family name.”

“Well seeing as I have only been here for a day and am related to literally nobody, the only problem is discomfort. When I said earlier that I had nothing, I meant  _ nothing _ . The only things to my name are the various odds and ends in my bag. None of which hold any monetary value.”

“Very well then, I suppose I can allot you a sum of some sort for the valuable information you hold. However, you must be on hand for the goblin nation. If we have any questions or concerns, we need them answered in a timely fashion. Though, I am pleased at your coming to us rather than the ministry. Fudge has no bearings for the real world and would’ve handled your case rather poorly.”

“I thank you for that, and I will do anything for a paycheque, within reason of course. If it is within my capabilities I will happily complete your tasks and answer your missives.”

“Very nice. For your time of three hours, I will pay you 50 galleons. The only stipulation being that you must read up on goblin history if you are to come to us again needing help.”

“It was wonderful to meet you, Ragnok. May your gold flow and your enemies cower.” 

“And you as well, Miss Cassandra.”

Now, the pleasantries were out of the way and she was 50 coins richer, although she had never fully learned about the wizard economy and that may bite her in the ass. 

.oOo.

It was frustrating, trying to figure out what she needed and didn’t need. 

One thing for sure, she needed a wand. 

She wandered through knockturn alley, trying to find cheaper, black market supplies. When she came upon a wand shop that dealt with darker cores—she jumped up and dashed inside. She came back out half an hour later with a brand new aspen wand with a thestral hair core , twelve inches, pliable. It was cool to the touch and looked of marble. It was her favorite thing in the world and never before had she yearned for touch as she had with the instrument. It belonged in her hands and it would never leave her hands. 

She got a used suitcase, preferring it to the larger trunks wizards seemed to favor, but she had nothing and so it would work nicely. She got a few sets of practice potions ingredients with the help of a blind hag who reminded her of Baba Yaga, and when told this gave a wide, toothy grin. 

“Thank you dear child, just for that, I will not eat you.”

However the newly deigned Cassandra was sure of herself and knew the old hag had no intentions of eating children, at least not older children anyway. In fact, she was more of an adult than a child.

Finally, it came time to venture into the brighter Diagon Alley, where the crowd had thickened and the heat had risen. 

As a treat, she ducked into a salon and purchased a hair growth potion. Cutting her hair had been one of her regrets, and she had discovered that it had been cut in some places thanks to the wreck, and truly looked awful. So she downed the potion and got a trim, leaving it waist length. 

Feeling like herself once more, she returned to her necessities. She needed robes, books, a sheet of parchment and a quill. 

She firmly held off on the robes and books, not knowing for sure if she would be allowed to teach at Hogwarts or not, and if not would have no use of wizarding robes, and without knowing what position she would fill, did not know what she would need to research.

As it turned out, the wizarding postal service provided free parchment and writing utensils as long as the customer was sending the letters through them for a small fee. 

With the letter taken care of, Cassandra fed into one of her only other wants and drifted into the pet shop. 

.oOo.

The sight, sound, and smell of various animals was a kick in the face. 

The croaking frogs, the screeching owls, the yowling and meowing cats and kneazles, and the crups yipped as small children crowded around the pups and squealed in delight. Rats squeaked from a place unseen and rabbits chirped and pranced around their enclosures. 

A door hidden between frog tanks revealed a room with the older and “unlovable” pets. 

She walked through after glancing unimpressed at the rabbit enclosure. They were serviceable for housepets, but she was looking for an intelligent creature, a friend and companion. 

A lot of snakes were hidden back here, lazily basking under the warm glow of the warming charms. Hawks and falcons were back here too, most likely due to the popularity of owls. She wondered if she could afford any of the pets. 

She walked over to the hawks and falcons. In the muggle world—in her world, hawks and falcons were highly intelligent. These birds, however, were magical, and according to a faded sign, could be taught how to speak a few words. Though despite their beauty, none of them had yet to stand out to her, until she reached a lustrous peregrine falcon with sad yellow eyes. Her feathers were droopy, ill kept, and missing in some places. Her cage was too small and the water was yellow while the food had molded. 

She grabbed some seed from a nearby shelf and opened the cage, dumping the moldy food on the floor and replacing it with the fresh seed and suet. The falcon’s pupils dilated and immediately went to work eating the food and treats. 

When the bird was done, Cassandra let her out of the cage and allowed the falcon to perch on her shoulder. The bird rubbed her head against Cassandra’s cheek in gratitude and the young lady smiled at her new companion. 

Looking wildly around, she set her suitcase down on a nearby shelf and opened it, putting in several bags of bird food. The falcon would be allowed to eat fresh outside, but she would prefer having other options too. She wasn’t going to pay for any of it either. 

The suffering of the great bird—and surely the others too—did not deserve to be rewarded with her coin, no. Instead, she took her animal and her bags and walked right through the front door without anyone saying a single word. 

They were free. 

.oOo.

It was late when she crawled into bed that night, in a new location. A tavern at the far end of Knockturn Alley had cheap rooms that were serviceable. Truly she only needed a place to rest her head and for the low low price of 5 sickles, it had been hers. However, she did bolt the door and place a chair under the knob. 

Her falcon—now named Adrestia meaning ‘She who cannot be escaped’ after the greek Goddess of Vengeance—perched delicately on the bed post. 

She did not have any dreams that night either. 

.oOo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally took so long trying to figure out how to get the image on here, so I really hope it shows up 😭😭


	4. Prospects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eagerly awaiting a letter from the Deputy Headmistress, Cassandra tries her best to prepare for whatever the answer is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this last week has been rough. I hadn't realized that I had signed up for 16 credit hours in school and now I'm reaping the consequences. I was literally up until 3 in the morning for four consecutive nights trying to finish homework bc online university sucks. But it's whatever I guess. 
> 
> I'm not too sure about this chapter, the real story starts in the next chapter and everything before that feels like filler, but I am so happy at everyone who commented. I literally love you guys so much. Everybody who kudos, commented, bookmarked, and subscribed is my family now. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading!!

The next day, a letter came from McGonagall, stating her wonder at the subject of her inquiry. 

_ Ms. Cassandra, _

_ As you can probably gather, a request such as yours is highly irregular. Asking for teaching openings even though you have no credentials is a bold move, but one I respect nonetheless. It takes courage to ask for things in life.  _

_ I am afraid there are no teaching positions available at present. You must understand that even if there were, you would not be an option as you have no documentation proving your ability and knowledge in a classroom. So for this reason I must reject your application.  _

_ However, I have been thinking and I feel as though there may be an opportunity available to you due to your unique position. I can’t say for sure what it would be in this letter as I do not know all the details myself. If you are interested, I would like to meet you next saturday at the Three Broomsticks to discuss this further.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Deputy-Headmistress Minerva McGonagall _

That was more than she could have hoped for. An opportunity, no matter how vague, was still an opportunity. She jumped up happily, kicking her feet in the air with joy. She was one step closer to fixing things. 

She packed up all her things, grabbed her new animal familiar and ran down to the post office. Once more she requested a blank sheet of parchment and a writing implement. 

_ Deputy-Headmistress McGonagall,  _

_ I would be more than delighted to meet you in person and discuss your opportunity. I’m afraid I’ve been without hope for too long, and you’ve given it to me again. Thank you for this chance and I will see you on saturday. _

_ Yours, _

_ Cassandra _

.oOo.

Robe shopping, as it turned out, was much too expensive for her. 

Three new robes and everything that required was more than she was willing to part with. 

“Is there a second hand shop I can buy some clothes from?” She asked the store clerk at the first robe shop she had entered. 

“You won’t find one in Diagon Alley, that’s for sure. I bet if you poke around you will be able to find a shop that fits what you need.”

“Alright, thank you then.”

Cassandra kept up her smile until she made it a little further from the shop and then she dropped her smile and scowled. 

“What the fuck was that! A shop that fits what  _ I _ need? What about a shop that isn’t so fucking expensive. This is rich people’s shopping grounds. No way I could’ve afforded anything here in this life or my last one.” She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “I hate rich people,” she grumbled. 

She stalked around the alley, looking to see if there were any other clothes shops. There was one other ‘Twilfitt and Tatting's’, but she received a glare when she opened the door by the man working the counter. 

“I apologize miss, but we don’t allow people to come in unless they’re customers.”

“How do you know I’m not a customer?”

“You aren’t wearing any shoes and you’re filthy. It’s obvious you’re poor and wouldn’t be able to afford the products we make and sell here. Not to mention that mangy bird on your shoulder might be diseased.”

She glared at the man and gave him a two finger salute before turning back around and walking away. She turned to her ‘mangy bird’ and stroked her feathers. 

“The mean man didn’t mean it, Adrestia. He just doesn’t understand that recovery takes awhile.” 

She literally hated everything right now. Her lack of shoes, her dirty dress, her short hair, her obvious poverty. The only impoverished family in the films were the Weasleys, and they clearly were light wizards and respected despite their economic status. This same respect, it seemed, would not be afforded to her. It also annoyed her how there wasn’t really any show or mention of families from different socioeconomic backgrounds. Surely there would be a place affordable to the middle and lower class, right?

She slithered into Knockturn alley, glad to be away from the brightness of the midday sun. There were a lot more poor people in Knockturn than there were in Diagon. It made sense if one thought about it. Diagon was the first introduction to the wizarding world that many had. It was the main front and it was supposed to be perfect. The illusion of perfection would only be “ruined” by the presence of the poor and homeless. This creates a bad rap for Knockturn alley, housing not just shady businesses and dark wizards, but the population’s unwanted masses. Most of whom relied on the cheaper second hand stores here. 

She looked into every shop front she passed, hoping to get a glimpse into a magical thrift store. There were book stores, Borgin and Burkes, private offices, the apothecary the hag took her to, pet stores, the wand store she got her prize from and finally a thrift store.

She quietly rejoiced at her find, eager to enter and see what kind of cool clothes there were. 

There wasn’t anybody to greet her at the counter, so she took the opportunity to walk further into the racks of clothes. 

Robes of every shape and color and pattern were hanging. There was also a great selection of vintage nightgowns, tunics, leggings, sweaters, belts, dresses, skirts, blouses, and pants. If you named it, the store had it. She looked at the prices and was relieved to see they were so cheap. Why would she need to go get tailored robes from Madam Malkins when there were cheaper, cooler clothes here? 

Still alone in the shop, she piled the clothes over her arm as she drifted from aisle to aisle. 

When she finally went to the counter to pay for it all she ended up with three nightgowns ranging from baby pink to white along with their matching robes, four robe sets in navy blue, lemon yellow, rich emerald green, and a rich dark purple, two pairs of bellbottoms and two cropped peasant tops, and four flowing dresses in light blue, pale pink, pale yellow, and white. She grabbed a pair of nice wedged nude sandals, and a pair of kitten heeled mary janes. 

She felt giddy and excited. It had been awhile since she had gotten any new clothes, and this shop was quickly becoming her favorite. She vowed to come back when she had a little more money. For all fifteen items, the total was two galleons—a more manageable price than the 20 galleon set of three robes Madam Malkins had offered. 

She didn’t really like shoes, but she felt them necessary with her new outfits. Especially for a first meeting with McGonagall, she wanted to make a good impression and not disappoint the woman who was giving her such a chance. 

.oOo.

The book store was next. 

This was a crucial moment. Whichever books she chose would unerringly change how she proceeded in the future. She had passed herself off as a seer to the Gringotts goblins—maybe it would be a wise idea to pass herself off as a seer due to her unique position as someone from an alternate universe where this was a story she knew intimately. 

Alright then, a seer she would be. 

It didn’t hurt that she had been set up to start learning divination in her old life. She hadn’t gotten very far, but it was something she was passionate about as a hobby. 

She didn’t account for the fact that she had needed over 50 books to help her not only assimilate properly in wizarding society, but to adapt to her new role as an oracle. 

“Adrestia, if you see someone approach—let me know.” 

She piled the books she needed in her bag, crushing the animal food and wrinkling her new clothes. She would buy one book to avoid suspicion, but she couldn’t afford all of them. 

Walking to the counter to pay—she felt nervous, but years of experience shoplifting and stealing helped her keep her cool as she politely paid the witch behind the counter and left without anyone wiser of their lighter stock. She was just glad that it seemed as though wizards didn’t have security cameras. Maybe wizards didn’t steal like she did. 

But it didn’t matter, the deed was done and now she had 10 galleons left and nowhere to go. 

She made her way back to the sketchy, but affordable, inn that had housed her the night before. 

.oOo.

When Saturday finally rolled around, she was a mess of nerves. 

She had laid out the lemon yellow robe set the night before, trying to prepare as much as possible for the meeting. She had read the books about seers, knew logically that she had everything she needed, was as prepared as she was going to get, but still she was anxious. 

She got dressed and tried to put her hair up, but the newly added length was something she wasn’t used to anymore. Her short hair had annoyed her, and she had lamented over the loss of her hair after it had been cut. Now it was waist length and glossy. Though it was still the same grey-brown colour as before. 

Growing increasingly frustrated she braided the top half of her hair and let it drape over the loose bottom half, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Now was not the time to overreact and start crying. Okay, chin up, deep breath, everything packed and ready to go, Adrestia was on her shoulder, looking her best. She could do this. 

She went downstairs to the main room of the inn and used their floo to travel directly to the place she was to meet her possible employer. With a pinch of powder, and the business's name called out, she was there. 

Spit out on the other end, she landed in a sooty pile. Shit! Adrestia squawked in indignation as the bird tried balancing on her wobbly shoulder. Maybe she should have had her fly to Hogsmeade. But there was another problem, she didn’t know any spells yet beyond the first year charms and transfigurations. She went up to Madam Rosmerta and asked if the kind witch could help her clean up a bit. 

“Could you banish the soot from my robes, please?” she asked, “I’m about to meet Professor McGonagall and I don’t want to make a bad impression, but I’m afraid I don’t know the spell.” 

“Oh it’s no problem, young lady. I’ve been in your shoes before.” The witch performed the spell promptly and ushered her to an empty table—McGonagall had not arrived yet. 

Her heart was racing, her hands were clammy, her breath was shaky. She had done this before, but her saving everybody from a dark future depended on this. She couldn’t screw it up. 

It was only a moment before the older woman walked in and spotted her. Seeing as she was not only wearing a bright robe, but the place was empty—it wasn’t that hard of a feat. 

She stood up as the professor approached. 

.oOo.

When Minerva had first received the letter from the girl, she had been very suspicious. 

No prospects, no last name, no preference for position. It was a complete mystery. A small part of her wondered if she was a death eater. However, now seeing the girl for the first time, it was hard to think so. 

Adorned in a very lovely yellow colour, the girl stood out amongst the dark walls of the pub. She was short, scarred, and had long ash-coloured hair. But she also had a bright smile and kind blue eyes. 

“You must be Ms. Cassandra,” she started. 

“Yes ma’am. I must say it is wonderful to meet you.” They shook hands before sitting down. 

“And you too, my dear. However, I do find it very strange your circumstance. I was wondering if you could explain a bit more about yourself before I reveal the opportunity.”

“Oh! Yes, I could do that. I’m afraid the letter I sent was vague in all the wrong ways.”

“Nonsense, I believe it is easier to talk in person anyway. Your letter was perfectly fine. After all, I have been purposefully vague as well.”

The girl seemed to sigh with relief. She seemed to be a very nervous person, reminding her almost of one Remus Lupin with the hair colour, the scars, and the anxious disposition. However, the connection hadn’t stopped there. 

“May I ask how you received those scars?” The girl’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh! I’m not a werewolf if that was your question, no. I was in a car accident a little bit ago. They fixed the damage but couldn’t do anything for the scars.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you must know it’s a relief to hear you aren’t a werewolf. I have a werewolf friend, and he is lovely, don’t get me wrong. But he ran into a lot of problems last year due to his… problem. It even affected his position as a teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Remus Lupin, right?” 

“Yes, you know him?”

“Not personally.”

“I see.”

The girl nervously fiddled with her fingers at the lull in the conversation. 

“Would you like something to drink? It will be on me.”

“Oh that would be lovely, I’d like mead if they have it.”

Minerva stood up and walked over to the bar and ordered the girl’s mead as well as a rum for herself. Usually she would order a firewhisky, but figured she could go for a more expensive drink considering the occasion. 

The drinks were handed to her and she sat back down, noticing the hawk on a nearby chair for the first time. 

“Is the hawk yours?” She asked politely before taking a sip. 

“Oh yes, just got her. A peregrine falcon. She had been in the back room of the pet shop—horribly neglected. She looks a lot better now than she had.”

“You like animals?”

“Well enough. I favor odd animals: bears, wild hares, snakes, cows. My favorite pet would be a cat though. They remind me of my mother. Her last cat had been a squat little tortoiseshell named Minerva.”

Minerva could help but preen at the knowledge. Her inner cat loved praise. Cassandra had a knowing look on her face at this that Minerva couldn’t help but question.

“How did you know?” 

“That you’re a cat animagus?” 

“Yes! I don’t believe I’ve taught you before. In fact, from what I know, you have seemingly been dropped here!”

The girl across from her worried at her knuckles some more and wouldn’t look the professor in the eyes as she spoke. 

“Yes, I suppose it rather does appear as though I’ve been dropped. You would be shocked to know you aren’t that far off from the truth.” The girl carefully sipped at her drink before continuing. 

“I’m not… I wasn’t lying about the car accident. In fact, it was the accident that brought me here in the first place. I… I lost everything in that car accident. Friends, gone. Family, dead. I came here with nothing, not even magic. It wasn’t until I collapsed in front of the Leaky Cauldron that I had realized I was a witch.” 

Minerva couldn’t help but gasp. 

“How long ago was that?” 

“A week.”

“How did you not know you had magic?” 

“Well, it just never occurred to me. I hadn’t gotten a letter when I was eleven like most magical children do. And the only real outlet for my magic was visions, heightened intuition. I came here after the accident and sent you a letter because I’ve seen the future, and I want to help change it.”

Minerva couldn’t believe it. A seer? What a joke! She was not about to invite another Sybill Trelawney into the castle. One was enough, thank you. She finished her glass quickly, savoring the spice in the back of her throat, before standing up.

“Wait!” the girl said, standing up in shock. “I can prove it to you, please let me prove it!” 

“So you can prove your ‘gift’? I know you can’t because all seers are full of it. There hasn’t been a good seer since—”

“Cassandra Trelawney. Great great grandmother to Sybill Trelawney, the current divination teacher at Hogwarts. She has only spoken two prophecies in her lifetime. Once in 1981 and then again just last year. Yes I know. However, I don’t deal with prophecies, or I haven’t yet. I can only see the future and the past as it is right now.” 

Minerva stopped at the words and turned around. How did the girl know so much for only knowing about the wizarding world for a week? 

“Please just tell me what your opportunity was.” 

“I suppose I might as well. My apologies for not listening.”

“That’s alright, it happens all the time.”

“While there aren’t any teaching positions open right now, there are, as you say, teaching assistant positions open for the elective classes.” The girl leaned forward with interest. “I suppose you would be best suited for the divination class, seeing as you’re a seer and all.” 

“That does make the most sense.”

“However, I need some sort of proof that you can handle this job. I can’t just go hiring people all willy-nilly. Have you taught before?”

“Not exactly, I had been in the middle of school myself, granted it was university, but still. I was a very well liked tutor for the younger years as well as my peers. And I have experiences with young children as well if that’s any help.”

“Yes, well you don’t have to worry about having a teaching degree, seeing as this is an assistant position. But if you know even a little bit about Sybill, you’ll know she is drunk more often than she is sober. With this in mind, do you think you are capable of handling large classes of thirteen to seventeen year olds? Of teaching them?”

“Yes ma’am, I am confident in my abilities.”

“Good. Now, would you mind it if I, say, tested your seeing ability?”

“How so?”

“Tell me a small detail that will take place in the near future so that I know for sure you are what you say you are. I believe you for the most part. But I also believe that there have been a lot of people who have lied and claimed their status of a seer to get benefits from the role.”

“Yes. I understand.”

The girl placed a fingertip against her lip and stared at the table as she furrowed her brow. 

“Ah yes, I got it. Alright. On the night of September 1st, in the middle of the opening feast, professor Moody will walk in during the storm all wet and drippy and then… let’s see. The enchanted ceiling will become rather, hmm, lightening-y? Stormy. And he will cast a spell and clear it for the students. He will greet Dumbledore, say something about the ceiling—don’t quite remember what—and then will suspiciously drink from his hip flask.” She paused. “Has the quidditch world cup already taken place?” 

“No, it starts in two days.”

“Perfect. I know you like quidditch. I know who wins between the bulgarian and irish teams, do you want me to tell you?”

“No, No, I believe you. I wouldn’t want the match spoiled by the knowledge of the outcome.”

“Suit yourself.”

“That was… a surprising amount of detail, Alastor Moody you said?”

“Yes. And, I suppose I have a knack for it.”

“Very well then, it is decided. You will be Professor Trelawney’s teaching assistant in the divination class.” 

“Thank you so much, Ma’am.” 

“Regarding payment, I believe a stipend of 50 galleons a month would suffice?”

“That will be acceptable. I’d be living at Hogwarts during my tenure, correct?”

“Yes. You would be given room and board in addition to your pay. Do you have an account at Gringotts?”

“No, not yet anyway. Is there anyway to be given the money in a physical form?”

“I believe we can come to an arrangement.” Minerva drew out some papers. Mostly contracts, but there were a few pages of castle and teaching guidelines that every teacher received at the start of their position at Hogwarts. “I just need you to fill out and sign some papers. Standard stuff regarding liability in case of an accident. Emergency contacts. Next of Kin. Not that anything would happen, but its always better to be safe than sorry. I’m sure you understand.”

“Perfectly, ma’am. However, I don’t really have anybody that I can put down as an emergency contact or next of kin.” Minerva frowned in thought. 

“You may place me as an Emergency contact as I am the Deputy Headmistress, and you can put Gringotts as Next of Kin. That way everything goes to the goblins in case of death. You can change this any time you want, just have something down for now.” 

“Got it.” 

She watched as the young witch across from her filled out the forms. The bird sat on her shoulders and seemed to be watching Minerva, as if she was going to harm the girl. She wasn’t, but apparently the bird didn’t know that. 

“Where do you need my signature?” She moved the forms closer to Minerva. 

“Here, here, and here. I will need your initials here, and here. Perfect.” The forms were handed over. “I will have these processed as soon as I get back to Hogwarts.” 

There was a lull in the conversation, which seemed to discomfort the girl, who once more took to fiddling with her fingers on the table top. 

“Are you staying anywhere?” The elder witch asked politely. 

“Not anywhere permanent, ma’am, I can’t afford it.” The girl gestured towards her small suitcase. “What little I had I spent on books and clothes. I have a little left, but nothing significant.”

Minerva couldn’t help but feel sorry for the thing in front of her. Poor, starved, and with nowhere to go. The only real option would be to invite her to Hogwarts for the last two weeks before school starts. Might be for the best anyway, it will help her get her bearings and meet her new advisor. She briefly thought that this was happening rather quickly, but something she had been calling her witch’s intuition was telling her that the girl in fron of her was trustworthy and reliable. 

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to stay the last two weeks before school at Hogwarts, would you?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. I would love nothing more.”

The girl gave a blinding smile and Minerva and her damned bleeding heart knew she made the right decision. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her new position as a seer will be explored in depth and there will be explanations when needed, but feel free to critique and ask questions. 
> 
> Also, don't know if I've said it before, but all of my works are unbeta'd, so I write and edit everything. If there's a mistake or something is phrased confusingly, please let me know and I will fix it. 
> 
> Thank you so much!


	5. The New Diviner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra joins the Hogwarts skeleton crew and has a rough time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. Howdy folks. I'm so excited to post another chapter featuring more art at the end! This time it is a depiction of Severus Snape as he is being portrayed in this fic. And while I love Alan Rickman, I wanted Snape to be younger looking b/c the dude just turned 30 like not that long ago in the story. 
> 
> Also Snape is introduced in this chapter! I am acknowledging that he is a bad person, because he is truly awful. But I am giving him an actual redemption arc--not r*wling's stupid "I loved your mother and now I'm crying" redemption. I just wanted y'all to know that bc a lot of ppl excuse his behavior, and I'm not trying to do that. He is a complex character and will be developing. 
> 
> Rant over! It's thank you time now! Thank you to everyone who commented on last week's chapter!! I always get so excited to post because I can't wait to read new comments. Thank you to everyone who has kudosed and bookmarked too, I love y'all to the moon and back.

Well, that had been easier than she had thought. 

Already in Hogsmeade, the walk to the castle from the pub was pleasant. The weather was nice, the sun was out the breeze was gentle, and the atmosphere was quiet.

“I trust you will be reading up on other subjects before the school year starts?”

“Yes ma’am, I have numerous books already, but I feel as though I will be spending a significant amount of time in the library.”

“Good. I can safely tell you that since I’ve hired you, no one else will question your place here. Albus—Headmaster Dumbledore I should say, has not had the best track record with hiring prospective teachers. Our laundry list of bad DADA teachers can attest to that.”

“So I don’t have to be reviewed by a school board? I’m just… Hired?”

“Yes, since this is an assistant teaching position there’s a little more leeway than there would have been had you actually applied to be a teacher—though I worry what your plan would have been had I rejected you.”

“If you hadn’t, I would have considered joining the Hogwarts staff as Filch’s assistant.”

“I shudder at the thought. A bright young lady like you doesn’t belong elbow deep in filth.”

“I thank you for thinking of me that way…”

She trailed off as the castle came into sight at last. 

The building was magnificent, glorious, beautiful. She could see the care and dedication the builders had put into it all those hundreds of years ago. It was so large, and it’s position on top of the black lake contrasted wonderfully with the forest behind it. The bridges, the arches, the buttresses. It seemed as though they had started building in the medieval period and had continued adding more and more onto it. It was an architectural masterpiece. It would be hard to move once she got inside, she knew. Even now, she hadn’t realized she had stopped until McGonagall had cleared her throat politely. 

“Sorry about that, I was an art student at one point. The architecture is simply amazing. The work and dedication it must have taken to build something this beautiful.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I remember my first time seeing the castle. I couldn’t keep my jaw shut. Of course that was decades ago. I guess I have never thought about the building process. It just seems like it has been here forever, and will remain so.”

She looked up at the falcon perched on her shoulder. She clicked her tongue and made a whistling sound to get her attention. 

“Go on now, to the Owelry with you. I promise to come visit you soon. You need some birdy friends though, and I’m sure the school owls will be welcoming.” The bird nodded and flapped her wings in preparation. She had only known the bird for a few days, but it still hurt seeing her only friend soar on the winds to the rise of the towering Owelry. She sniffed and looked over to McGonagall. 

The two shared a smile and they continued walking. Knowing what the beautiful building held in its future, she wanted to cry. It would be destroyed. No! She was here to stop that. Here to stop the deaths, and the rise of Voldemort, the breaking of a people, and the destruction of the single most interesting piece of architectural magnificence she has ever seen. 

.oOo.

Her meeting with her new advisor was rather… interesting. 

Trelawney had deemed it appropriate to get blasted drunk before the meeting—even though McGonagall had told her that the prophetess had been informed before their arrival. Minerva had led her to a room near the divination classroom that was filled with rugs and lumpy sofas that smelled strongly of cigarettes and cheap incense. The two had stepped fully into the area and immediately Cassandra got a migraine. The drunken witch had slurred something unintelligible and wobbled over to the two, before collapsing atop Cassandra and knocking them both down to the ground. 

“My god, woman! Have you no shame?” McGonagall admonished as she spelled the other witch up and off of her. She held out a hand and Cassandra graciously received it. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Oh yes, she wasn’t very heavy. I’m fine.”

“I hope you won’t excuse her behaviour. She has no one to blame but herself for her actions. This being the case, if she does something to somebody in front of you, you aren’t to apologize in her stead.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

The transfiguration professor looked down at Sybill with a look of disgust. The woman moaned and waved her hand about, looking for the half full bottle of firewhisky that was precariously leaning uncapped against one of the sofas. 

Cassandra felt sad seeing this woman desperate for another drink. She had known people, hell even family, who had been affected to this degree. Alcoholism was a very serious thing and the witch obviously needed help to manage her addiction. Nevertheless, she trailed silently behind McGonagall as the elder showed her to her new rooms, making sure to close the door on Trelawney’s room gently behind her. 

Her rooms were just down the hall from Sybill’s. A living area, a kitchen area, a bedroom and a bathroom. It was really more than she could have asked for. 

“I apologize for all the dust, here let me spell it away for you and I will let you settle in. If there is anything you want to add to your rooms to make them a little more cozy, just ask aloud for a Hogwarts elf and they should take care of you.” McGonagall looked up as if thinking. “They can also direct you anywhere you need to go in the castle. Seeing as it’s only the 13th, you still have plenty of time to prepare before classes start. Most of the main staff is here, I’ll be sure to introduce you later this evening at supper time around 8:30. I will leave you to it then.”

“See you in a bit.”

And then she was alone. 

Perhaps calling a house elf to get furniture from the room of requirement wasn’t that bad of an idea. There were a few wooden chairs spread around the room, a bare bookshelf, and an end table in the main room. The kitchen was completely bare save the appliances, which were thankfully more modern than what she was expecting. The bedroom boasted a bare twin bed next to a wide window that looked out onto the black lake. On the other side of the bed was another end table with one leg shorter than the others, so when weight was placed upon it, it rocked. 

The bathroom was a little better, but then again there wasn’t much you needed in a bathroom. The floor was white hexagonal tiles and it reminded her of the bathroom in the apartment she had lived in for several years. However, this bathroom was certainly larger and had a large claw foot tub. 

She set her suitcase upon the bed, cringing at the squeak of the iron wrought frame that wracked through the silent room. She plopped down next to it and let herself sink into the old mattress. 

Her temporary state had left her feeling anxious for her entire stay in the wizarding world, and now, for the first time since she died, she felt as though she could breath. She stayed like that for a long time, staring out at the lake. It was so quiet. She needed to process all of her emotions from the busy day. She felt untouched by her problems here. When the sun had started to set, casting the sky in a bouquet of oranges and purples, she realized she had been sitting there for several hours. She cast a tempus charm and felt pride when it worked. It read 7:58 pm. Almost time for dinner. Never one to be late, she stood up and moved to the bathroom to tidy up. 

She checked her hair in the mirror and combed the flyaways down with dampened hands. She unearthed her pouch of jewelry from her original world bag and dumped it upon the bed to sort through. She wanted to make a good impression, and it never hurt to try your best. 

A thin black chain with a buffalo pendant was the necklace that stood out to her the most. It had been a gift from her grandmother before the woman had dropped from their lives. She quickly put it on and left the room and her bag behind. 

.oOo.

The great hall wasn’t too hard to find. 

It was a left turn and a long staircase that led down to the first floor. Then a left, and another left, and then you reached the great hall. She took her time going down the stairs, not in any particular rush. She still had around half an hour before dinner actually started. 

The castle was completely silent and she hadn’t seen anybody in what must have been hours. She felt… isolated, but content? She couldn’t quite believe where she was. She felt almost as if she would get in trouble for walking alone through the dark and empty halls. 

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she turned and bumped into none other than professor Snape. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” she said blurted out, not trying to leave a bad impression on literally the only person it mattered. If Snape didn’t like her, he would make sure to let her know. This meeting could affect the rest of her year and affect the path she would have to take to finish the Voldemort business.

“And who would you be? I don’t believe we’ve met before.” 

His voice was deep and the sound rattled through her bones. She breathed in and finally looked up and into his deep, dark eyes. He was quite a bit taller than her, towering over her.

“I’m Cassandra, I will be assisting professor Trelawney during the school year.”

“That won’t be easy. I almost pity you.” She laughed. 

“I just met her for the first time earlier and she knocked me over in her drunken state.” Snape snorted and she felt instantly happy, pleased at herself for getting the seemingly untouchable man to laugh before they really knew each other. 

In the books and the movies, one only saw professor Snape from Harry’s point of view, and it wasn’t very flattering. Yes, the man was mean, but she wanted to get him to just chill out and focus on things  _ other _ than the war around them. 

Another thing about Severus was that he was not at all how he was described in the books. J.K. Rowling must have been Anti-Semetic as the description of Snape’s nose as a large, hooked, hanging nose that didn’t fit on his face was not entirely accurate. It was merely an average aquiline nose. His teeth did not appear yellow and only a little uneven. His hair did not appear greasy, merely straight. Cassandra understood better than most that with straight hair came the threat of becoming an oily weasel if you missed your hair washing day. His eyes were perhaps the most accurately described. Cold and black eyes met hers and she couldn’t help but stare into them. They were cold and black, yes, but they were also unerringly sad. 

.oOo.

Severus had been having a shitty day. 

A shitty week, really. 

Albus had been loading more and more requests upon him, calling him up to his office for meetings every night. And he said the same thing every night: ‘No, I don’t know what the dark lord is up to. The mark is darkening but isn’t black yet. Yes I’m occluding. No, I don’t know if something will go wrong.’ 

Ever since that damned stunt at the quidditch world cup, Albus had been more paranoid. So on the night of August 13th, he was expecting a quiet dinner and then a very boring, monotonous meeting with the headmaster where the only thing he had to focus on was not losing his temper at the old man. 

This was not what happened. No. Instead he ran into someone in the hallway. 

It was a young woman, around 20. Her face and neck were covered in heavy red scars. He hadn’t seen her before, but he figured it had something to do with the announcement Minerva said she was making during dinner time. Nevertheless, it didn’t hurt to find out before Minerva intended. It was, after all, rather entertaining to ruin the lioness’ fun. 

“I’m Cassandra, I will be assisting professor Trelawney during the school year.” Divination? It was certainly an interesting subject, he supposed. Although the current teacher left much to be desired. 

“It won’t be easy. I almost pity you,” he said flatly. 

“I just met her for the first time earlier and she knocked me over in her drunken state.” 

He couldn’t help it, but a snort escaped. He had been so tired, so drained from the weight of living, he just wanted a break. He wanted to leave somewhere and never come back. But, meeting someone for the first time—even though he should be on guard—he felt almost relieved. The woman in front of him had never met him before, she should have no preconceived notions of him. He didn’t have to act around her. 

Cassandra. No last name it seemed. She was interesting. Her name, or lack-thereof, alongside her peculiar appearance combined with her new occupation. He could only hope that things would get more interesting in the good sort of way. 

He wanted deep down inside, to be able to befriend the woman in front of him. But he couldn’t. If not for her own safety, then his. He wouldn’t be able to handle another close friend of his dying because of him. It was the driving force behind why he hadn’t had any friends after Lily died, nevermind the fact that no one had ever wanted to be his friend beyond Lily. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by Cassandra, who was standing there, looking patiently up at him. 

“Were you also walking to dinner?” She asked politely. 

“Yes, I assume that was where you were going as well?”

“You would be correct in that assumption.”

“I’m glad.” The girl huffed a laugh at his dry tone. 

“So you are the potions professor, right?”

“Yes.”

“How exactly did you get into the ‘subtle science and exact art that is potion making’?” He stopped short. 

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“You just said ‘the subtle science and exact art that is potion making’ that’s a line from my introduction to potions speech. How did you know that? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Well I intended to say it as a joke, but I forgot I was speaking to the most observant person in the world.” She sighed, which did not help Severus’ nerves. “If you must know, professor Snape, I am a seer, if my name didn’t already indicate. Ask me anything and I’ll probably know.”

Well, that was a lot of information. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in the art of divination, it was just that he didn’t like thinking about it. It was, after all, a prophecy he delivered that got Lily killed. 

“Do you know what is going to happen this school year?” He couldn’t think of a better way to phrase it than that without giving too much away. 

“If it's the Triwizard tournament you are referring to, then yes I know what’s going to happen.”

That didn’t prove anything, Minerva could have told her in preparation for the upcoming school year. But Cassandra could clearly see what he was thinking as she spoke up again. 

“Go ahead, ask another question.”

“Alright then, who will be one of the champions?” This can surely prove whether she could See things, and it was a safe topic. 

“Without giving too much away, I can safely tell you that the Durmstrang champion is to be Victor Krum.” 

Victor Krum from Durmstrang. Severus didn’t follow quidditch as much as his fellow wizarding population did, but he could clearly recall the star seeker from the Bulgarian National Quidditch team. 

Cassandra laughed again. 

“I can tell you want to ask more, but are too afraid to know the answers. That’s alright. Shall we continue to dinner?”

“I suppose we should.” He was more reserved than before, but there was really nothing he could do about it. 

The Seer seemed to know a lot more than she was letting on, but then again she wasn’t, was she? She clearly told him to ask any question and he did. He was a coward, and she knew it. 

His earlier hopes about her being unbiased were dashed. 

If she knew  _ anything _ about him, she would think him a bad man—because he was. No good man would condemn those that he loved to death because of a grudge. No good man would get so caught up in his own thoughts and feelings that he would bully children. 

No, he was not a good man. Yet, he trailed behind the woman as she led the way to the great hall for dinner. 

.oOo.

In person, the great hall was huge. 

The sheer magnitude of it couldn’t be captured properly in the movies. Hundreds of people could and were occupying the room during feast scenes, but it felt appropriate. 

Now, however, the great hall housed one round table near the end. 

It looked comically undersized, like one of the little tables she used to make for dollhouses. 

She stepped into the large room, sensing Snape’s presence behind her. Flitwick, Pomfrey, and Sprout were already at the table, talking quietly amongst each other. Five seats were still empty. McGonagall wasn’t there, and without her presence, Cassandra started to feel nervous once more. 

She couldn’t stop short, Snape was behind her and she was pretty sure they already noticed them there. She didn’t want to walk forward. Her heart was racing and she could feel her hands starting to shake. If only she could really see the future, then it wouldn’t be a problem and she would know what was going to happen. 

But she can’t. 

In the few seconds it took for her to try and come up with a solution, Snape had walked in front of her and made the decision for her. 

“Everybody, this is Trelawney’s new teaching assistant, Cassandra. Cassandra, this is Professor Flitwick—the charms professor and Ravenclaw head of house. Madam Pomfrey—the medi-witch who attends the hospital wing. And Professor Sprout—the Herbology professor as well as the Hufflepuff head of house.” 

“Hello everybody, it’s lovely to meet you.” Her voice sounded distant to her and she hoped nobody else could hear it. 

“And you too, my dear. If you have any questions and concerns, just come to me and I will help you.” Sprout said in a motherly fashion. It seemed J.K. Rowling had a thing for the motherly type, as the woman was like an older, more subdued version of Molly Weasley. 

“Thank you for your offer, I might have to take you up on that.” She smiled at the older woman and took a seat next to Madam Pomfrey. 

To be honest, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the medi-witch in the movies, always on her phone or talking with her now long gone brothers. But now, up close, she could see how stunningly beautiful the older woman was. If she hadn’t gone into medicine, she would have made a great model. 

She grabbed the sweating glass in front of her, sipping at the cool water and relishing in the feeling of her throat being wetted. 

“So, where are you from? I don’t believe I’ve ever met you before.” Flitwick asked politely from across the table and next to Snape. 

“I’m from America, believe it or not. I only just came to the UK quite recently.” 

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, you speak like a proper brit!” Sprout exclaimed happily. 

“My father was from England, I must have gotten my accent from him.”

“Yes, quite.”

At this point, McGonagall had made her appearance, along with Professor Sinistra and the two both sat down. McGonagall sat down next to Cassandra, and let the astronomy teacher sit next to Snape—leaving the only empty seat between McGonagall and Sinistra. Dumbledore’s place. 

She fervently hoped he didn’t show up, but knew that in all likelihood they would have to meet sooner rather than later. 

She didn’t want him to perform legilimency on her. She didn’t know that much magic yet, and the old manipulative man could easily take her out, and this scared her more than she would have thought. 

Minerva introduced her to Sinistra, and the two smiled politely at each other. It was quietly explained that this was just the skeleton crew and that more teachers would start arriving as the school year approached. By that time, the food still hadn’t shown up, and she yearned to know what time it was. She couldn’t cast a tempus, that would appear rude. Her stomach was hurting—whether this was due to hunger or nerves she didn’t know, but she  _ did _ know that waiting around quietly for the man she was the most afraid of had not been on her agenda that day. 

“Ah, hello everyone.” She tried valiantly not to jump as a voice sounded from behind her. “Apologies for my tardiness, I was quite caught up in paperwork I’m afraid.” 

“Oh that’s quite alright.”

“Yes, we were just having a lovely conversation.”

“Yes!”

“I didn’t even notice your lateness!” 

She stayed silent, keeping her gaze on her glass. It was half empty and the condensation had started to run and leave the table damp where the glass had been moved. If she wasn’t so afraid of calling attention to herself, she would have attempted to drag a finger through the cool droplets to calm herself. 

“And who is this?” She looked to the side and saw that Dumbledore had finally reached his seat.

“Albus, meet Sybill’s new teaching assistant, Cassandra.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Her voice held strong, even when her hands shook under the table. 

“Oh the pleasure is all mine, dear girl.” She didn’t meet his eyes, though she did smile at the old man. 

“Your school is very lovely, I’m excited to start teaching when term finally starts.”

“Ah yes. Teaching is one of my many joys as well,” the old man laughed. “I suppose I’ve kept you all waiting for long enough, let’s eat.” 

Food appeared in the middle of the table. 

Chicken, onion and liver pie, ham, boiled eggs, bread, mince pie, fish pie, curry, and a caesar salad appeared in a large spread that used every available space afforded to the dishes. 

It all seemed very unappetizing. She had been in this world for almost a month and she still couldn’t get used to the food. A small portion of salad and bread made it onto her plate. She hoped nobody noticed her sudden lack of appetite, but she doubted anyone would call it to attention. At least, she hoped nobody would mention it. It wasn’t that the dishes looked bad, just that it was all very heavy and she knew it would sit in her stomach and make her uncomfortable for hours. She really didn’t want to lie in bed for hours trying to recover. 

Small talk was exchanged throughout the meal, though it seemed the others had moved past her novelty and were paying her no attention. 

She finished her meal quickly and the plate disappeared, leaving her with nothing but a new glass of water. 

.oOo.

Dessert was a subdued affair. 

Opposite of the extravagant meal that had been dinner, there were only two options to choose from. 

There was a jelly roll and some sort of tart that had a yellow filling. She chose a slice of the roll. 

It was okay. 

.oOo.

Back in her rooms, she could hardly see. 

The scant amount of light came from the bedroom window and allowed her to see the outlines of things, but nothing more. 

She stumbled to her bed, opened the suitcase, and pulled out a nightgown. She stripped out of her clothes and pulled on the silky, cool garment. She got out the bag she had kept with her and pulled out the quilt before setting the suitcase in front of the window and wrapping the blanket around her—throwing herself atop the old mattress and hoping it didn’t give her a crick in the neck the next morning. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snape can have little a character redemption as a treat.


	6. Meeting for the First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With school starting soon, things have grown hectic. Advisors are day-drinking, and potions professors are stumbling upon naked women in the school Lake! When did everything get so chaotic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! It took awhile for me to actually read and review this chapter because I obliterated my index finger in a kitchen related incident, so I am without one of my majorly used fingers 😓. Also I am in the middle of a major snowstorm and my family is all packed inside like sardines. That being said, I hope you guys like this chapter! It is one of my favorites so far. 
> 
> Big thank you to everyone who commented on last-weeks chapter!! I love interacting with you guys, so I'm glad you comment. It staves off the boredom for sure. 
> 
> Obligatory thank you to everybody who leaves a kudos, everybody who bookmarks, and everybody who subscribes. I really appreciate it.

Rather than going to the library the next day, Cassandra felt it pertinent that she furnish her rooms. 

“Um, Mipsy?” She called out, hoping that there was in fact a house elf at Hogwarts named Mipsy. A pop sounded behind her, answering her question. 

“Mistress called me?”

“Um, hello, hi. Are you terribly busy right now?” 

“No! Mipsy is free, what can Mipsy do for you?”

“Well, I need to furnish my rooms, but I would like to pick out the furniture in the come and go room, if you would be willing to escort me and bring my choices back here.”

She ardently hoped that she wasn’t asking too much of the poor little creature. She felt rather guilty for her assumed position of power. 

“Oh, that would be no problem at all. Mipsy would be glad to help out Mistress.”

“Please just call me Cassandra.”

“Yes, Ms. Cassandra.”

.oOo.

If she had thought the great hall was massive, it had nothing on the room of lost things. The space was vast and sweeping. It kept going back and back and back, and she had trouble seeing the back wall. 

The newly deigned witch and the house elf wandered for an hour, losing themselves in the piles of furniture and general kipple that towered above them. Amid the junk and unloved treasures. She found a beige sofa and armchair, a few pots and pans, two bowls, two plates, two spoons, knives, and forks, two glasses, three bookshelves, a couple of pillows and a gorgeous medieval tapestry. 

The rest of the day was spent organizing her rooms and attempting to make it a little more homey. 

.oOo.

About four or five days later, she grew bored of the monotonous study schedule she had set for herself. 

Nothing felt different than it had in her original world. She would wake up, skip breakfast, go to the library and study, eat lunch, study, eat dinner with her new colleagues, and then study until she would pass out. 

The last time she had grown bored, she had run away and died. She couldn’t do that now. She had already placed the burden of hundreds of lives atop her shoulders—she couldn’t just abandon that because she got stuck in another monotonous existence. No, she would have to find a more productive way to beat it. 

It was a friday afternoon when she finally realized this. So, in search of something new, she slammed the book shut and ran from the library like a flame was on her tail. She didn’t know where she was running, just that it was  _ out _ , away from the castle. 

She ended up at the edge of the lake. 

She had been on the swim team in highschool, had worked as a licensed lifeguard. She knew how to swim probably better than anybody else at the castle. The weather was warm out, not enough to drive her into the water, but enough to comfort her should she get out of the water and find herself frozen. The only problem was a lack of a swimsuit. She didn’t have any underwear to use instead, and all of her clothes would just restrict her movement and end up drowning her. So, she would just have to skinny dip. 

She was comfortable enough with her body to be naked in the open with nobody there. She found the perfect spot far away from the castle and near enough the forest that the flora provided ample cover. So, she stripped, laying her dress on a warm rock, and jumped in—submerging herself completely. 

Her body finally broke the surface of the water and she yelped—it was freezing. She laughed and swam around, waiting for her body to adjust to the chill. She had unknowingly missed swimming. Missed the feeling of floating away the afternoon with nothing but the crickets and the wind keeping her company. 

Cassandra stayed near the shore, unwilling to get dragged down into the depths of the cold, black water by some creature that took residence in the lake—that wouldn’t be conducive to her ultimate goal of world-saving. 

She closed her eyes and floated on her back, relishing in the freedom of her actions. The cold air brushed against her naked flesh and she shivered and laughed as goosebumps developed on her chest, arms, and legs. She watched as the hours went by and the sky overhead turned from blue to gold. 

.oOo.

Severus had been out gathering potions ingredients from the forest. It was tedious work, and oftentimes he had to heal his hands from the cuts and burns he received from collecting such dangerous substances. He would wear gloves, but that ran the risk of damaging the plants which would in turn alter the potion. So he continued gathering bare handed. He had many scars that littered his hands because of this. 

He had gone out before lunch time, savoring the nice weather and eating a sandwich a couple hours into the trip. 

He always liked this part of his job. 

Severus had felt trapped there, at the school. He was grateful for Dumbledore’s protection, but he had only spent four years on his own between his schooling days and his tenure. And those four years had been extremely unpleasant. Half of it was in hiding and the other half he shuddered to think about. 

He had realized soon after joining the ranks of  _ Voldemort _ that the warm welcome, the power, and the sense of belonging would not be afforded to him. The only problem was, he couldn’t back out. He had been marked already, and the dark lord would certainly track him down and kill him if he had run like he had often dreamed of doing. He had jumped from one abuser to another and he had lost all hope in life. 

He had been young then, only twenty one. Now, at thirty four he was in more or less a stable place. He had a good ten years of not worrying about the dark lord. It had only been a matter of time before trouble started back up again, marked by the return of the proverbial chosen one. 

And it wasn’t that he hated teaching—he was... _ resentful _ of the fact that he wasn’t allowed to pursue anything he had ever wanted in life. He hadn’t wanted to become a teacher. He had wanted to become the world's youngest potions master and maybe find a cottage in the highlands where he could run an owl-order apothecary. Maybe he would find someone that finally loved him for  _ him  _ like so many weren’t willing to do. 

He sighed, cursing his maudlin thoughts and winced as another root cut through the meat of his thumb. 

Severus stuck the plant in his bag and stood up, stretching out and wincing once more as his joints popped. It was nearing dinner time, and if he hoped to catch the meal with the other teachers he needed to start heading back. 

He started walking, admiring the trees and the dappled lighting they allowed through their thick canopies. The sound of the birds and chittering creatures permeated the air and he breathed in deeply, relishing the peace before the inevitable storm that the beginning of the school year always brought. 

When he finally got out of the forest a few minutes later, it was to the sight of the spectacular sunset. Gold streaked across the sky in great swooping color. Purple and pink married with blues and yellows added to the mural in the sky. 

It may be hard for him to be here sometimes, but the scenery almost made up for it. 

So, he continued walking, stopping every once in a while to admire his surroundings—and before he knew it he had made it to the southern edge of the black lake. By the time he had noticed the discarded dress on a nearby rock, it had been far too late. He inhaled audibly, giving away his position. 

“Severus?” 

Lo and behold, the newest—and youngest—member of the staff was drifting atop the water completely nude. He quickly averted his eyes, unwilling to invade her privacy. He may not be a  _ good _ man, but he wasn’t  _ bad _ either. 

“Hello Ms. Cassandra,” He answered back in an attempt to not be rude. 

“What are you doing out here?” She asked, not sounding the least bit embarrassed at her current state. ‘Not that she should’ he thought, ‘she is free to do what she wants and I can respect that’. 

“I could ask you much the same.” He stood there awkwardly for a moment before continuing. “I was gathering potion ingredients in the forest. I decided it was nearing dinner time and was just walking back to the castle.”

“Is it that late already? Well, I suppose I should be getting out too. I would have asked you to join me—but I’ve already been in the water for a long time and as you said it's near dinner time.”

He heard the sound of splashing water and from the corner of his eye saw Cassandra wading over before standing up. 

“I’m sorry for asking, but do you know a spell for drying hair?”

“... Yes?”

“Would you mind casting it for me? I left my wand somewhere—probably in my dress or something.”

He tampered down his initial reaction of fear at the thought of someone not knowing where their wand was. Then, he focused on what the woman had requested of him. 

“You want me to spell your hair dry?”

“Well, yes. Isn’t that what I just asked?” She finally stepped onto the shore with a laugh on her lips. “It’s alright if you don’t want to, but I would be very grateful if you did.”

“I’ll do it…” He trailed off, only reluctant due to her obvious lack of clothing. 

“You can look, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just, you are inconveniencing yourself by looking away from me when you don’t have to. I don’t mind if you look—it’s just a body after all.” 

He took a deep breath and wondered at the young lady’s openness before turning his head around. 

Cassandra was not beautiful in the way that models were beautiful. She was short, she had tan lines, and stretch marks, and numerous scars, and she had body hair. She was beautiful in the way that a human body was supposed to be. Her breasts were small, her hips were round, and her stomach wasn’t perfectly flat. Her ash coloured hair was dark with water and hung down to her knees. 

A great red scar ripped across from her left shoulder to her right hip, and an explosion of scars marred her tanned shoulder—like she was thrown through glass shoulder first. Her left leg was almost entirely scarred, and the right wasn’t much better. Her hips both had bright red, blotchy scars. 

He stepped closer to her and she turned around, gathering all of her hair into her hands and propping it up in a helpful gesture. 

Severus quietly performed the charm and stepped back, watching quietly as Cassandra gathered her dress into her arms and slipped it on over her head and tied the belt at her waist. She looked down and sighed. 

“Found my wand. Guess it  _ was _ in my dress the whole time. Oh well.” And he watched silently as she used the wand to pin her hair up in a pile atop her head. “Thank you, Severus.”

“It was my pleasure…Cassandra.” His mouth was dry and he could feel his heart racing.

He turned reluctantly, assuming the interaction was over, and took a step. 

“Severus?”

“Yes?”

“You need to be nicer to Harry this year. Actually all of your students, but Harry most of all. I don’t think you have the whole picture, and something like that is very important in the grand scheme of things. Certain things will come to light this year and it would be easier for everyone involved if they had clear minds.”

He stood there, stunned. His back was still turned, so he could not see the witch who had spoken. 

“I see…” he trailed off uncomfortably. “Anything else?” He was trying very hard not to get defensive. He had been having a very nice day up until this point—and he refused to have it ruined. 

“Not at the moment. I will let you know if something important comes up. Now, however, I implore you to go over your past interactions with the boy.” 

Knowing she was now done speaking to him, he walked briskly away. The only sound around him was the crunching of the crisp grass under his heavy heel. 

.oOo.

Cassandra could only hope that her message got across to the dour man. 

Harry needed another ally—especially for the upcoming year. But that was a challenge, because she would never expose his secrets without his consent. It was not her place to tell Severus Snape that his student wasn’t lauded as a celebrity at home, but rather treated like a house elf. She needed to get it into Severus’ little pea brain that things aren’t always what they’re made out to be. James Potter is dead, he can lay that grudge to rest.

She took a deep breath and remained watching the disappearing figure of Severus as he made his way across the sprawling lawn. 

Her stomach grumbled and she figured that she had better get in before she really did miss dinner. 

.oOo.

It was two days before school was to start and Cassandra was run ragged trying to come up with lesson plans with no help from her advisor and the actual teacher of the class. 

In fact, Professor Trewlawney had been in an alcoholic stupor for over a week now. The young witch would have hidden all of the liquor from the older woman—but quitting cold turkey was dangerous to not only Sybill, but others too. So she bared her teeth and continued on drafting lessons for the thirteen through seventeen year olds who were invested in the class. And looking at the roster, the amount of seventh years was not promising. In fact, the whole situation was fucking bleak. 

It seemed as though the class had been heavily neglected since 1988. And it was only later that she found out that in May of that year Trelawney's only sister and nephew had been killed in a freak accident involving a wizard on a potion drinking binge who had spelled a store to collapse and had killed twelve people before his apprehension. 

Since her discovery, Cassandra had felt very sorry for the prophet. But she also felt sorry for the students who were now suffering due to lack of direction. 

Out of all one hundred and forty eight seventh years, only six were in Divination. There were ten six years, seven fifth years, twelve fourth years, and only ten third years. The classes would be small, but it wouldn’t be too bad—especially considering she had never taught before. When she had finally finished planning her first month, she sighed in relief and submitted it to McGonagall for review—and even going so far as to send an additional copy to Sybill even though Cassandra knew she wouldn’t read it. 

.oOo.

It was the evening of the opening feast, and Minerva was rushing around finishing last minute tasks that had been put off until they couldn’t be anymore. The sorting hat needed to be placed on the stool, the rest of the candles needed to be lit, and the teachers needed to be rounded up if they were to be attending the feast. Every year it felt as though they were putting things off until the last minute. You would think they would have figured it out by now, but no… she had to run all the way up to the headmaster’s office to grab the sorting hat and stool. 

“Professor.” She heard from down the corridor. 

“Ah, Cassandra, you were right about the weather. What can I help ye with?”

“I was just wondering if I would be allowed to attend the feast. It was never clear if I was… you know since I’m just a teacher’s assistant afterall.” The young woman trailed off and kept her eyes firmly on a nearby wall. 

“Of course dear! You are always welcome. I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear. You’re welcome to attend dinner at the teachers table the entire year if you so choose.”

“Thank you Ma’am. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“You can help me carry the sorting stool down.”

“Yes ma’am, I can do that.”

Minerva couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the girl. Obviously she was very nervous about things—which is why as of late she has been as clear as possible with Cassandra. It may be odd for a seer like her to be so anxious about things, but then Minerva remembered she is still  _ new _ to magic—even if she had claimed to have been having visions her whole life. 

She was grateful for the girl’s help however. It was always a hassle trying to maneuver the talking (sassing) hat and stool down the three flights of stairs—even with magic to aid her. 

.oOo.

The storm raged on outside—visible only by the enchanted ceiling above. It made shivers run up and down his arms as he tried to keep up the illusion of warmth. The warm glow of the candles would flicker occasionally and the room would grow dim without anybody noticing until professor Flitwick would relight them. 

Harry’s wet hair dripped down onto his glasses before dripping further down onto the empty table in front of him. He resisted the strong urge to sigh. 

Last summer hadn’t been as bad as it could have been—not with the threat of Sirius hanging over the heads of the Dursleys. No, instead he had been locked into his room and practically starved for the three months between semesters. At least he had been able to keep his school books with him and was able to complete his homework before the train ride unlike his first three years of school. 

Ron and Hermione were sitting next to him and talking about something he wasn’t paying attention to. He was too focused trying to figure out what this year’s theme was. 

First year was the gauntlet and stone, then second year was the  _ diary _ and the chamber of secrets, then third year was the whole escaped prisoner ordeal complete with soul sucking dementors and a little bit of prevented execution via time travel. This year, it seemed Voldemort’s lackey’s were ramping up to something if the Quidditch Cup had anything to do with it. 

Honestly, he wanted a break. Was that too much to ask for? No Dursleys, no Voldemort, no big ordeal. Just peace and quiet. It had gotten to the point where he would rather focus on school than anything—which was ironic considering how most children hated school. He wanted to… lay down in a field for a couple of hours and watch the clouds without thinking about anything. Was that also too much to ask for?

Yes, it was. 

He had completely missed the sorting due to his swirling thoughts—but he started listening just as Dumbledore started his beginning of the year speech. The plate in front of him remained empty for a long while as the speeches were made and staff introduced. 

“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, unaware that any time had passed and that food was now in front of him. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little tired. Today has been long—though it seems as though I’ve done so little.” 

“I know the feeling mate. Lethargy is no joke. C’mon, let's eat something and then we can retire early.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

They were quiet as they passed around dishes and served each other. After nearly four years of eating with one another every day, they had developed a routine. They all knew what the other liked and disliked. Ron didn’t like corned beef, but loved pea salad. Hermione didn’t like black pudding, but would devour shepherd's pie. Harry didn’t like liver and onion pie, but loved fish. 

Their comfortable silence was broken by a lightning strike on the ceiling above them, followed by a loud crash of thunder. Storm clouds swarmed and some of the candles flickered out. Some of the first and second years screamed in terror as another crash of thunder was enunciated with a bright flash of light. 

Harry looked around wildly, knowing but not believing that Voldemort  _ never _ struck this early in the school year. He neary drew his wand, and noticed a few of the older years from different houses had already done so. However, the crisis was averted by the wand of a strange looking man with one eye. He lowered his wand and then hobbled to the side of the dais, gulping down some sort of substance from a hip flask. 

“Alastor Moody, though everyone calls him Mad-eye Moody these days on account of his magic eye and what not. Paranoid, he is. He’s an auror—so it’s his job to be paranoid I suppose. Worked with my dad some at the ministry. Bet he worked with yours too—and Sirius. I heard they were both aurors.” Ron explained, ducking his head closer to Harry’s, as though he were afraid of being caught talking about the man.

“Oh. I think I heard his name before, but I hadn’t ever seen him. I wonder if he’s in any of the pictures in the album Hagrid gave me. I could’ve just missed him.”

“What do you suppose he was drinking?” Seamus cut in from next to Hermione. 

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s not pumpkin juice.”

“I bet he is our defense professor this year. Professor Lupin isn’t back.” Hermione sighed. “I hope he’s better than professor Lockhart and Quirrell.” Ron laughed at this. 

“Anybody would be better than those two. Even Malfoy’s  _ dad _ could teach defense better than them.” Hermione snorted and then grew red. 

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes it was! You laughed! Therefore, I not only made a joke, but I am funny as well.”

“Nice try, Ronald. It’s going to take more than that to convince me of your so-called ‘comedic talents’.”

Harry laughed at his friends, happy that the summer was over and he would be able to spend quality time with the two. He had really missed them. 

“Hey… who do you suppose that is?” Neville asked quietly from his place on the other side of Dean, who was sitting next to Harry. 

The group of Gryffindor fourth years looked over to where Neville had gestured and caught sight of a young lady sitting near the astronomy professor. 

“Don’t know. Suppose we’ll find out soon enough though.”

“D’you think she’s a… y’know… werewolf?”

“Because of her scars?”

“Well yeah! She looks like professor Lupin kind of. The hair color is the same.”

“Yeah but her scars are red. Moony’s were white. Also her skin is darker than his. And her hair is longer. Also she is a woman and not a man.”

“That doesn’t mean she  _ isn’t _ a werewolf, just that she isn’t Lupin.”

“That wasn’t the point.” 

“Enough, like I just said, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Suppose you’re right ‘mione.”

“And you just now realized?”

A good laugh was shared all around, along with many different theories of who the young lady was. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I was rewatching a scene of the fourth movie while writing this and I have to just say wtf was with the 'exposition scenes', like you're telling me Harry Potter has been in the wizarding world for four years and he never ONCE heard of the wizard police 😐, so I changed the scene to make sense. Because no way he never heard of wizard police when they were literally after Sirius in the 3rd book/movie. And why was Dean the one that was explaining everything about Mad-Eye moody?? He's muggleborn too?? Don't make no gotdamn sense...


	7. Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes have started and things have been going really well... almost too well. Cassandra is starting to see things in her dreams that feel real to her, but they aren't they are just dreams. She must be losing her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just want everybody to know that I will be taking a two-week break after this post, meaning I will not be posting next week or the week after that. I will be really busy with work and I would like the extra time to stock up on chapters. I have 13 written so far, and I would like a little more cushion going forward. I will be posting regularly after that, so do not worry! 
> 
> There are depictions of unwanted touching, it is nonsexual, and it is nothing that is real in the context of the story, it is just a dream--but I wanted to warn y'all anyway. It is at the first part of the chapter so if you want to skip it just skip the first section of italics and you should be good. 
> 
> Thank you guys for commenting, dropping a kudos, subscribing, and bookmarking! I love you!!

Cassandra woke up the next day with a crash. 

She jumped up out of bed and looked wildly around, trying to find its cause, but not seeing anything. Light flooded in through her window and made it impossible to go back to sleep, even though it was only 6 in the morning and she wouldn’t have to get up for another hour. 

She sighed and crumpled into one of her arm chairs with a hand over her eyes. She could see flashes of her dream last night playing through her head. 

_ She was in a corridor, walking with a purpose, and then she was accosted by someone she couldn’t see. A hand on the back of her neck pressed her face into the cold stone wall. Nothing was around her—not a portrait or suit of armour, nor a tapestry to hide behind. She felt a hot, stinking breath on her ear.  _

_ “You cannot tell anyone of my secret. I’ll make sure of that.” _

It was a harrowing vision, but one she couldn’t discern. 

She wasn’t a real seer, so she shouldn’t be able to actually  _ see _ things. So why she believed her dream could come true was a mystery to her. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t true, but then why did she feel so panicked when recalling the details? Her heart was still palpitating and her breathing was heavy and labored. But it wasn’t real. Was it? 

She knew enough about divination to somewhat teach it as she learned, but she wasn’t someone who could divine. The real Cassandra Trewlaney and the greek oracle would stone her in the afterlife for this farce. Though, to be fair, when she had picked the name, it wasn’t because she knew she would be passing herself off as a seer for a job. It had been a farce to rack in money from the goblins, not teach school children how to tell the future. 

She took a deep breath, squinting against the sunlight, and stood up to go make a pot of tea in the kitchen. Maybe some chamomile would calm her down and help remind herself that she was  _ not  _ a seer, despite what her brain was telling her. 

.oOo.

Her first class was the fifth year OWL students. 

“Hello everyone, I am Cassandra. I am professor Trewlawney’s teaching assistant. I will be working with you all this year to help you prepare for your OWL exams in the spring.”

The students, who had been slouched in defeat, perked up at the new teacher. 

“I will be handing out a syllabus here shortly, outlining what we are going over this year. I understand that your education to this point has been spotty, but I am here to amend that. Professor Trewlawney will still be teaching some classes, but you will see me the majority of the time. For today, however, I thought we could get to know each other.”

She sat down on one of the chairs in the front of the classroom and looked at the seven fifteen year olds in front of her. 

“I will start. My name is Cassandra, I am twenty two years old. Just last year I was studying art, but now I am teaching here. I have never taught before, so I hope you understand if I get something wrong. I am a seer, been having visions all my life—not prophecies mind you, but visions. I’ve always been fascinated by divination, so when McGonagall came to me with this opportunity I took it.”

She looked at the students unable to believe how easy lying had gotten. Of course she hadn’t been seeing visions her whole life—but she knew pretty much everything about this world thanks to the many hours and days spent reading and re-reading fanfiction. 

“Would you like to start?” She asked a boy with yellow-trimmed robes. 

“Um, Sure. I am Todd Oxley. I am in Hufflepuff. My favorite subject is charms, and I enjoy playing the lute.” He looked at the girl next to him. 

“I’m Julie Bowing, Ravenclaw. I enjoy running, and my favorite subject is potions.”

“Wendle Tule, Hufflepuff. I like astronomy.”

“Dawn Fawley. I am in the Slytherin house. I enjoy medieval history, however I despise the way that professor Binns teaches. He takes all the fun out of it.”

“Croft Sayre, Slytherin as well. I like reading. My favorite subject is Transfiguration.”

“Tyrius Macmillan. Gryffindor. I like Care of Magical creatures, but I liked it better with professor Kettleburn. I also like astronomy.”

“I am Elliot Perks, I like ancient runes and arithmancy. Oh, I’m in Ravenclaw.”

“It is lovely to meet you all.” She stood up and handed out rolls of parchment with the copied syllabus on it. “Please look it over and let me know if you have any suggestions. The spring semester is very tentative, so don’t take it to heart. If you have any questions for me, personal or otherwise, I am always available to you. Within reason though, I’m not trying to have anyone knock on my door at 3 in the morning.” 

Everyone nodded their agreement. 

“Alright everyone. Let’s try for an excellent year!”

.oOo.

It wasn’t until her third day of teaching that she got her hands on the fourth year class with Harry Potter in it. 

Her speech was the same as it had been for the others, but in an attempt to reach out further to this  _ particular  _ group of students, she tried to be more personable. 

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Padma and Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Terence Higgs, and Lisa Turpin all sat in front of her. 

Their individual lives played out before her. Every single death between them. Three dead, one maimed, eight living out the consequences of being child soldiers. 

“Today will be the day I allow you all to ask any question you want and I will try and answer to the best of my ability. However, if I say I can’t answer a question, please respect that.”

Hands went up in the air. 

“Yes, Mr. Macmillan?”

“Where did you get those scars?”

“A car accident. Don’t worry, I’m not a werewolf. I know after your last year it's all on your minds.”

A few students relaxed at that.

“Yes Ms. Parkinson?”

“What house were you in?”

“Good question. I’m from America, so I didn’t attend Hogwarts. However, I think I would have done quite well in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw.” 

That seemed to satisfy the Slytherin and Ravenclaw population.

“What’s it like in America?”

“Quite different from England. The food is a lot different. Not nearly as many meat pies. Where I lived, land would stretch on for miles. If the heat didn’t get you, then the bugs would.”

“Why do you sound british if you’re really from America?”

“To not stand out…  _ Tell me, if I always talked like this, would y’all write me off or wouldya listen and respect me? _ Additionally, my father was british and passed on what I know about accents.”

“Yes Mr. Malfoy?”

“What’s your last name?” 

“Don’t have one.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, when I came over here, I went to the Goblins and they asked if I wanted a last name and I decided I didn’t. The concept of last names is a rather new one when considering the long record of humans on this earth. Tell me, did Barnabas the Ugly have a last name? If he did, you certainly haven’t heard it. It just goes to show that it’s the actions one performs rather than the name they are associated with.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“Do you have any family?”

“Well, I had two younger brothers and a gaggle of step siblings.” 

“Had?”

“Yes, I’m afraid they have passed on.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

She looked around the room at the students, satisfied that there were no more questions. 

“Alright, we have fifteen minutes left of class, so let’s do something productive with it.”

She heard groans and chuckled a little bit. 

“Aw, it won’t be too bad. We are going to practice meditation.”

Even more groans. 

“Come now, it won’t be like the meditating you’ve all done in this class before. I will open a window and guide you through it… so no nap time.” She quietly opened the window before sitting back down. “Meditation has a practical application to almost every magical branch—not just divination. However, the practice of Divination is different because almost all the theory is based around oneness and being in tune with yourself.” 

“Now, deep breaths everyone. Focus on the air coming inside the classroom. Close your eyes and visualize the chill of it going in through your nose, filling up your lungs, and flowing out your mouth. I want you all to relax, so if that requires moving from your seats, then so be it. You can lean, sit up, lay down, just find a position that allows you to completely relax. Take another deep breath. In, one...two...three. Hold...one...two. Out…one...two...three...four. Now, I want you to keep track of your counting and breathing. This is the easiest way to empty your mind.”

She lit a stick of incense in the corner. 

“I will tell you all this later in a lecture, but when emptying one’s mind it is the hardest to visualize perfect nothingness. This is due to the fact that humans simply cannot imagine what true nothingness is. So instead you find an anchor. We won’t focus on visualizing anything today, maybe later. But for now…. In...one...two....three. Hold...one...two. Out...one...two...three...four. Focus on your body. Think about all the bones in your body. Think about your wrist and shoulder joints and how they move effortlessly as you shift. Think of your knees and how easily they bend. Good. In...one...two...three. Hold...one...two. Out...one...two...three...four. Hear the sound of your beating heart in your ears. Feel it moving in your chest. If you want, you can place a hand over your chest, or your pulse point to center yourself. Feel the life in you, the blood flowing through your veins. Alright. One last big deep breath. In...one...two...three. Hold...one....two. Out...one...two...three...four. Very good.

“Now, be careful opening your eyes. In my experience the light is too bright and you get black spots in your vision. I’m closing the curtain right now so the room will be darker. Alright, it’s safe now. 

“Alright, show of hands, who enjoyed the meditation?”

All twelve hands rose. 

“Keep them raised if you feel like a fifteen minute meditation would be beneficial at the end of each lesson.”

All twelve remained in the air.

“Alright, thank you all for participating in the lesson. You all may leave whenever you like.”

.oOo.

Classes went on without a hitch, and Cassandra felt as though they were sinking into the groove of things. 

She was confident in what she taught, and could see as the weeks went on, that the students were getting the material and eagerly participated in class. In fact, students who weren’t in her class sometimes sat in and participated. Hermione Granger was one of these people. 

The young witch had stated that she had felt bad for dismissing the subject because she couldn’t understand it—but she could understand  _ herself _ and that was what made the difference. Guided, purposeful meditation was a lot easier than someone choking you with incense and giving directionless commands of emptying one's mind completely. 

When October finally rolled around, Cassandra was getting nervous. She kept feeling like something was going to happen, or that the other shoe would drop—she had been doing too good for too long. This had never happened before, everything  _ always _ went wrong for her sooner or later. It’s how she died in the first place! 

.oOo.

When Severus went to sleep on Monday night, he hadn’t expected anything out of the ordinary to happen the next day—which, for anybody else concerned, was just a normal Tuesday. 

The Slytherins stayed the same, and so did the Gryffindors, nothing seemed...wrong. Any other person would have thought that this meant nothing  _ was _ wrong. But Severus wasn’t any other person, and so when he woke up on Tuesday morning, it was to the feeling of something  _ wrong _ . 

Breakfast seemed different, but not unusual. Something was missing though. 

He only had two classes that day: seventh year NEWT, and a second year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw. They were the easier of the classes. 

He had just finished setting up the classroom for the seventh years when he had discovered something. 

“I mean, she hadn’t said anything about not being there. There wasn’t a notice on the door or anything. Me and Tracey ended up staying for ten minutes before leaving—no point in staying if there isn’t any teacher.”

“Yeah, that is odd. Ms. Cassandra isn’t a flake like Trewlawney. I wonder if something came up and she forgot to put a notice of absence up?”

“That could be it. I’m just bummed I had to miss her class this week. I had been looking forward to it.”

“You can always sit in with another class tomorrow, she’s pretty lenient about that kind of thing.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I’ll just join tomorrow’s class then.”

“Nice. I’ll join you.”

Cassandra wasn’t in class today?

It was, as Mr. Pucey had put it,  _ odd _ . He couldn’t come up with a reason that there wasn’t a teacher in class— or at least a plausible reason. He sent a quick note to Minerva about it and went back to writing the instructions on the board. 

A few minutes later, a response appeared on his desk. 

“ _ I’m sorry Severus, I have a bunch of younger year classes today, do you think you could check up on Cassandra?” _

He sighed and turned to the full class of twenty students. 

“I apologize class, but it seems as though something has come up. You may use this as a study period to practice easier potions, or you may treat this as a free period and are free to leave.”

After a few nods of assent and some quiet ‘yes, sir’s he left the classroom. 

The trip to the set of rooms given to Cassandra was tedious. Staircase after staircase, hallway after hallway. He could feel tension rising in his chest, unwilling to acknowledge how anxious the situation was making him. He arrived and knocked on the door. 

“Cassandra? Are you alright? May I come in?” No answer. He tried again. “Hello? Is anyone here?” No answer. “I’m coming in,” he announced. 

The door wasn’t locked or warded, and it was with relative ease that he found his way into her bedroom. However, what he found was not pleasant. 

.oOo.

That Tuesday on the 4th of October, she woke up with a migraine to end all migraines. 

She couldn’t open her eyes without it hurting. Every time she moved pain would jar her body and she couldn’t do anything but whimper and cry. She grew too hot, and then too cold. Everytime she closed her eyes, images of Harry’s world—her world now too, would fly past her in a barrage of disorienting scenes. 

The cup, Harry’s name, the betrayal, _the hand on the_ _back of her neck_ , the Grindylows hurt Fleur to the point of causing almost permanent damage, Cedric dies at the hands of Victor, Voldemort is back, she is _falling_ , blackness. 

The cup,  _ her name _ , fire... _ burning  _ her from the inside out, Cedric drowns, Victor is attacked by Grindylows, Fleur dies in the maze by Voldemort's hand, she is  _ falling _ , blackness. 

The cup is… gone? Pain blooms in her neck, she  _ can’t breathe _ , she’s running out of oxygen, blackness. 

The cup, George’s name, Harry gets pushed in the dragon enclosement, Harry and George get burned so bad they are put in an isolation ward, they die, she’s  _ falling _ , blackness. 

Over and over again, endless timelines slipping in and out of her mind like water. 

She didn’t know when it happened, but at one point, she could feel something pleasantly cold covering her aching eyes, and a warm hand taking hers. 

.oOo.

Severus rushed to her as fast as he could. 

Her eyes were shut tightly, and she was crying. Gasps and moans and cries and whimpers left her lips accompanied by unintelligible mumbles in languages he didn’t know. Her hair was wild, curling around her temples and sticking to her sweaty skin; she kept thrashing around, twisting her quilt around her bare legs. 

Quite frankly he didn’t know what was happening, but he felt that he  _ needed _ to help her. 

He looked around the room and found it surprisingly bare. The only other furniture in the room was a wobbly nightstand and a chifferobe. Pictures were adhered to the wall, but he hadn’t the time to stop and observe them, a bag was on the floor on the other side of the nightstand, and a simple book with the title ‘2312’ rested upon it. 

He went into the adjoining bathroom, hoping to find a washcloth to dampen and place atop her eyes and forehead. He was thankful that despite the lack of furniture, there were still towels and toiletries in the bathroom, even if it did seem hardly lived-in. He carried out his objective and returned to the aching woman’s bedside. 

He smoothed the hair back from her brow and shushed her gently as she whimpered. 

“Shhh, I’m here to help you. It’s okay, shhhh.” 

Her thrashing calmed and her head tilted in his direction. 

“Svrs…” she mumbled “hrts…” 

“I know it hurts. I’m sorry. Where does it hurt?”

“Hed… eys…bdy…” 

“Shhh…” He continued. 

He gathered her hair and plopped it down on the pillow next to her, but away from her face. Then he proceeded to lift the quilt, adjust her nightgown before putting the blankets back over her, smoothing it down in what he had hoped was a comforting way. 

“I will be just a moment.”

He went back into the main room and noticed how empty it was in there too. Some chairs, a sofa, bookshelves, and what looked to be a very old tapestry. He took a piece of parchment from his pocket and penned another note to McGonagall giving a brief description of the situation before sending it. 

He sat down on the sofa for a minute, with his head in his hands, and held his breath. He had no clue what he was doing. He had promised to himself that he wouldn’t be getting closer to the young lady, but he couldn’t help himself. She seemed like a genuinely nice person, who believed in herself and didn’t let others tell her differently. She seemed to also like him, despite possibly knowing that he wasn’t good. Additionally, he had  _ no clue _ what was wrong with her and not the slightest idea for how he could help. 

Potions? A pain reliever and a headache reducer for sure. He took a chair and went back to her room, setting the piece down next to her bed. 

“Cassandra?”

“Mm?”

“Would you like to take any potions? Pain relievers?”

“No… wudn’t do anthng…” She sunk down into her pillow. Her fingers twitched and she moaned in pain. 

They wouldn’t work? Maybe it had something to do with her being a seer, but he didn’t know enough about the topic to try and discern if that was the cause or not. He didn’t think Cassandra was up for explaining it to him either. He sighed again, feeling totally useless. Then he felt guilty for only thinking of himself and not for the person who was literally crying in pain. 

“Would you like me to take you to the infirmary or get Madame Pomfrey?”

“No… can't hlp….anthng...ah” 

She slipped back into her different language and thrashing about. 

With nothing to do with his hands, he decided to do something about her hair, which was very much in the way. He conjured a hair brush and started gently brushing it before braiding it into one long braid. 

With that done, he took one of her hands in his, jolting and dropping it at how corpse-like they felt. Her fingers were frozen and stiff. 

He gently took her hand back in his and sat there, letting his mind wander. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why she is having visions will be explained later on, but it does have to do with the fact that she actually has magic now. Harry's POV will be next.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really seen any fics for the HP fandom where a modern girl that knows about the universe goes back in time, so I thought I'd write what I wanted to read, and I hope you all enjoyed reading :8)
> 
> Once again I love you so much, and thank you to everyone who decides to comment, kudos, subscribe, or bookmark!


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